Verboten
by startraveller776
Summary: Sequel to "Requited." In the midst of war with the Romulans, a near tragedy has Jon reevaluating the choice he and Hoshi made that night back on earth. (Future Fic)


**A/N:** This is a repost of an old fic. It's a sequel to Requited. (You must read that in order to understand what's happening in this story.) This story ignores the events of "These Are the Voyages" and the novels that followed. Special thanks to Honeybee for beta services!

* * *

**VERBOTEN**

* * *

He can't sleep with her again. Jon has to remind himself of this fact after every loss they face in battle, after every win. He can't cross the bridge to her station, tangle his hand in her long, dark hair, and kiss her in his desire to celebrate or in his need for comfort. He can't show up at her quarters under the guise of conversation, but with the true intent of feeling her skin against his and hearing her moan into his neck.

He can't sleep with her again. He is the captain, and she is his subordinate. His life has been about Starfleet, always. He can't flout the rules merely because his hormones are out of control. It's just stress, he tells himself. It's the need to find release in the midst of war. He tries not to notice that it's only her he wants and not any other woman.

Jon crosses the Mess Hall, affording Hoshi the barest of nods as he passes. She gives him a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She understands, as he knew she would, why they can't be together—why they can't finish what they started in that San Francisco hotel room. He likes to think that she struggles to stay apart too, and he feels guilty for liking that thought. She deserves better than waiting for a man married to Starfleet. He should let her go, tell her to move on, but he can't.

And he can't sleep with her again.

"Cap'n."

Trip and T'Pol are waiting for him when Jon enters the private dining room. He sits without a word. He doesn't want to talk tonight. He doesn't want to smile or make jokes. He doesn't want to pretend that they aren't flying toward another skirmish with the Romulans. And he doesn't want to go over battle strategy either.

Jon is grateful for the silence as they dine. He glances at his senior officers and sees the guarded looks they share with each other. They still act as if no one is aware of their relationship. Jon thinks they do a fair job of hiding it, and he never lets on that he knows. Trip and T'Pol are of equal rank—the captain handles their reviews. Starfleet doesn't care if they share a bed at night.

Jon envies them. He's denied that kind of solace. He has only bourbon and cold showers—and combat.

Without conversation, dinner passes quickly. T'Pol is the first to stand. Jon and Trip follow her to the door, but Jon stops at the threshold when he sees Hoshi. She's not alone. Malcolm sits with her—as he often has in recent days—and he's said something that makes her laugh. She pats the security officer's hand, and Jon feels his chest tighten with an emotion that he's becoming familiar with. Is this what jealousy feels like? He's never felt jealous over a woman before.

"War's a funny thing," Trip says next to him. "It makes a man realize what really matters."

Jon turns to his friend, wondering what inspired the comment. Was it for Jon? Or was the engineer talking to himself?

Trip grins and shrugs. "Just sayin'." He pats Jon on the shoulder. "See you in the morning, Cap'n."

Jon returns the smile. "Bright and early, Trip." For a moment, he wants to forget that they'll be exchanging weapons fire with the Romulans soon.

After Trip is gone, Jon lingers in the doorway. He watches Hoshi and Malcolm finish their meals. He wants Hoshi to frown at Malcolm instead of smile, to wave the commander off instead of touch his hand. Jon irrationally wants to grab the security officer by his uniform and tell him to quit flirting with Hoshi—that she's already spoken for.

Jon knows he's not being fair to either of them, though. He has no claim on Hoshi—nothing but a shared evening before the universe went crazy. And Malcolm…Malcolm is his friend. He should wish them the best and forget about that night in San Francisco. He should, but he won't. He's not ready to let go of "what might have been" yet.

Sighing, Jon shakes his head. He doesn't need a war to understand what matters most to him. As much as he wants to drape his arm across Hoshi's shoulders to ward off any advances Malcolm might make, Jon's first duty is to the people of Earth, and by extension, Starfleet. He can't shirk his responsibilities.

* * *

"Launch the nuclear torpedoes!" Jon yells over the booming volley of weapon's fire. This is the first opportunity they have to use the new torpedoes, and Jon hopes they are effective. If not, the Enterprise won't survive this encounter.

"Torpedoes away, sir!" Malcolm's voice is barely audible as another blast rocks the bridge.

Consoles are flaring, and members of the crew jump to avoid the shower of sparks. Too late, Jon sees a panel explode toward Hoshi. Her head smashes against the back of the science station as she falls. Time seems to slow down as Jon watches her eyes roll up before she crumples like a rag doll. His heart stops. He feels like he's moving through sludge as he hurries to her side.

Travis yells something over the red alert klaxon that Jon only half-hears. Something about the Romulans. Jon glances up at the viewscreen just as the enemy ship is engulfed in a nuclear explosion. He tries to order a full-reverse, but the shockwave hits the Enterprise before the words can leave his mouth. As the ship shudders and whines, he lifts Hoshi into his arms and squeezes her against his chest. She's so small, so fragile.

Everything goes black and silent.

After a heartbeat, Jon realizes he's not unconscious. The alarms are quiet, but he can make out the voices of his bridge officers. When his stomach dips, he knows that the artificial gravity has gone offline.

"Grab something!" he yells.

Keeping an arm around Hoshi, he gropes in the darkness as he floats upward. His hand touches something cold and hard—a railing—and he grips it, pulling himself down. Hoshi doesn't stir. He worries about the extent of her injuries.

Lights flood the bridge again, and alarms begin blaring. Seconds later the gravity kicks back in. The weight of Hoshi's body knocks the wind out of him as they hit the floor. He struggles to breathe, to speak, but the air won't come.

"Phlox to the bridge." He hears T'Pol behind him as the klaxon lessens. "Medical emergency."

Static nearly overwhelms Phlox's response. "…my way."

Jon turns to give T'Pol a grateful look. The vise around his ribcage loosens, and he fills his lungs with gulps of air. He doesn't move, though. He doesn't want to aggravate Hoshi's injuries. She is so still that if he couldn't see the subtle rise and fall of her chest, it would shatter him. Even now, he feels his calm, rational façade cracking. He wants to race her to Sickbay himself. Why is Phlox taking so long?

Jon reminds himself that he's the captain. He doesn't have the luxury to play "white knight" to only one member of the crew, no matter how much his instinct demands that his first priority should be Hoshi. He forces himself to follow protocol.

"Damage report." His throat feels like it's lined with gravel.

"Hull breaches on decks D and E," T'Pol answers. "They have been sealed. Sickbay reports one casualty thus far. Twelve others are in critical condition. Commander Tucker reports that warp drive is offline. He estimates the damage to be moderate, however."

"We've lost weapons and shields, sir." Malcolm's voice is tight, and Jon wonders if he is worried about Hoshi, too. Jon stifles the jealousy that twists his middle.

The bridge becomes painfully quiet. Hoshi would have reported the state of the comm systems next. He resists the urge to tighten his arms around her.

"Where is the emergency?" Phlox's question breaks the silence.

Jon raises his hand. "Here, Phlox. It's Hoshi."

The doctor is over them with a medical scanner. Phlox's expression is grave. "I need to get her to Sickbay."

"How bad is it?" Jon tries to sound like a concerned captain rather than a man who might lose the center of his universe. The quaver in his voice betrays him.

"Head injuries are hard to diagnose, Captain. It could be a simple concussion or…" Phlox doesn't finish the sentence. "I won't know for certain until I get her into the imagining chamber."

Jon nods. He becomes aware that he's praying—to whom or what, he doesn't know. _She has to be okay_. His mind repeats the words in a perpetual loop. Life without Hoshi is unfathomable.

She's lifted out of his arms, and Jon stands up. He watches as Travis and Malcolm place her on a gurney. She looks peaceful, as though she is merely sleeping.

Jon cradles her lifeless hand in both of his. "You're going to be fine." He's aware that he's trying to reassure himself more than her. _She has to be okay_.

Phlox touches his arm. "Captain?"

Jon reluctantly lets go of her hand. "Take good care of her, Phlox," he says before he can stop himself.

"I will." The doctor gives him a look that says he understands Jon's worry—that it's more than professional concern.

Jon watches as they leave.

_She has to be okay_.

* * *

"She's going to be all right," Phlox says over the comm. "Other than a concussion and a few scrapes and bruises, of course."

The tension ebbs in Jon's neck. "Thanks, Phlox. I will be there as soon as I can."

He wants to run to sickbay now, but he has duties to attend to first. With a sigh, he stops pacing his ready room and activates the comm again.

"Ensign Roberts, here."

It feels wrong to raise the communications officer and not hear Hoshi's feminine voice. Jon shakes his head. "Get Starfleet on subspace and patch it through to my office."

"Acknowledged, sir."

Jon tries to sit at his desk as he waits, but he is full of frenetic energy. He thinks he might burst if he doesn't channel it in some way. He's pacing again before he realizes it, but it does little to ease the anxiety. Why won't his monitor beep already?

It does.

Jon takes his seat and activates the screen. The Starfleet insignia is replaced with the grim face of Admiral Gardner.

"You survived," he says without preamble.

Jon nods. "Barely. The nuclear torpedoes were successful."

"Casualties?"

Jon isn't put off by the abrupt manner of the briefing. At the beginning of the war, their discussions were lengthier—more companionable. A year later, however, it seems to take too much energy to report more than the minimum.

"One, though we have several in critical condition."

Gardner grunts. "You're coming back to Earth."

Jon begins to protest but the admiral cuts him off.

"We have some upgrades for the Enterprise. I know you want to be out there fighting, Jon, but we need every ship to be in pristine shape if we're ever going to beat these bastards.

"I promise we'll only keep you out of the fray for a few weeks." Gardner smiles, but it doesn't touch his eyes. "Besides, your crew hasn't had a furlough since you shipped out last year. I imagine it'll do them some good to see their families."

Jon reluctantly agrees. It would be good for crew morale to take a break from near-constant battles. "We'll set a course immediately."

"Good. We'll have a more thorough debriefing when you arrive. Gardner out." The admiral's image disappears.

Jon sighs and wonders how long the war will last, and how much it will cost them before it ends. Standing, he decides that it's time to go to Sickbay. It isn't just Hoshi who needs him, but the other injured crew members deserve to a visit from their captain. He wishes he could do more; they deserve more.

When he arrives, he doesn't go in immediately, but stands outside the glass double-doors. He can see Hoshi, sitting up on a gurney and smiling in the overcrowded medical facility. Malcolm has a chair pulled next to her, and she pats his hand as they talk. Jon's stomach clenches. Are they more than just friends? He thinks he should back away, that was the right thing to do, wasn't it?

Jon steps inside and searches for Phlox. He finds the doctor standing over an unconscious Lieutenant Rostov. Half of the younger man's face is bandaged, and Jon's chest tighten at seeing one of Trip's protégés like this.

"Is he going to be okay, Phlox?"

The doctor glances up. "I believe he will be, though he will need some physical therapy."

Jon nods. "And the others?"

"They should all pull through, Captain." He gives Jon a tired smile. "Other than Lieutenant Sato, all of them are resting."

"Thank you, Phlox." Jon makes a mental note to request Starfleet add to the medical staff. This war is a heavy burden for just one doctor.

Jon tells himself to leave now, to let Malcolm and Hoshi have their visit, but he's not feeling magnanimous. Something stirs inside of him, something more than jealousy, and he can't ignore it. If she asks him to stay away, to let her go, he will, but until that moment Jon is determined to make up for the last year of ignoring how important she has become to him.

"Hello, Captain," Hoshi says in a pleasant voice when he makes his way to her.

Malcolm stands up, almost at attention. "Captain."

Jon smiles at them. "I'm glad to see you up," he says to Hoshi. "Phlox says that you're going to pull through."

Hoshi grins and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, it was touch and go for a while there, but I just might survive until the morning," she jokes.

Jon chuckles. Only those who have been in combat understand gallows humor. He knows what Hoshi is really saying is "I'm glad I'm alive, too."

After an awkward pause, Malcolm speaks up. "Well, I have some weapons to attend to, if you'll excuse me." He gives Hoshi one of his rare, one-sided smiles. "Rest well, Lieutenant." He nods to Jon. "Captain."

"I'll see you later, Malcolm." Hoshi waves at the commander as he leaves.

When they are alone, Jon looks down at the gurney. "That can't be comfortable."

"Sickbay was overbooked. I had to take what I could get." Hoshi shrugs. "I'd rather be in my own bunk, though."

Jon winks at her. "I'll see what I can do." He leans in and says in a conspiratorial whisper. "I have an in with the doctor."

It takes some convincing to get Phlox to release her into Jon's care, but the doctor finally relents with a list of instructions a kilometer long. Jon has to promise more than once that he will make sure that Hoshi stays awake for at least twenty more hours, and to call the doctor if she becomes dizzy or loses consciousness.

Holding a PADD full of care instructions, Jon walks back to Hoshi. "Come on," he says, reaching a hand out to her, "I'm breaking you out of here."

"My hero." She takes his hand. "What took you so long?"

He laughs. "I had to get through a mountain of red-tape."

She leans against him as they leave Sickbay, and Jon likes how familiar it feels, like she belongs at his side. Her gait is a wobbly, and after a few shaky steps, he makes an executive decision. Hoshi looks up at him in confusion when he changes directions.

"My quarters are the other way," she says.

"Mine are closer," he explains. "I don't think you'll make it much farther on those unsteady feet."

She smirks. "Are you just trying to get me into your bed, Captain?"

Jon tenses. He knows she's not serious, but he can't help but think of the way she once arched her back beneath him, mouth opened in silent moans. He forces a smile and teases back, "You found me out."

They don't talk the rest of the way to his quarters. Jon doesn't know if it's because her comment hit a little too close to home, or if she's just tired. He hopes it's the latter; he wants things to be easy between them.

When Jon opens the door, Porthos is waiting on the other side. The little dog paws Hoshi's leg and wags his tail.

Leaning over, she scratches Porthos' ears. "Hey there, little man. I'm glad to see you too."

The scene warms Jon as he ushers both of them into his cabin.

* * *

"Hey."

Jon smiles at the sound of her voice. Such a pleasant voice. Such a talented tongue.

"Hey."

Something is hitting him on the head—not hard, but definitely not pleasant.

"Hey, Jon!"

He flinches, and realizes that his eyes are closed. Why are his eyes closed? He blinks, clearing his vision. His head is in Hoshi's lap, his arms around her waist and his leg is resting on her ankles. His first impression is that this feels natural, like their bodies were meant to mold together this way. He wants to linger, but he's waking up more fully now. The captain in him is stirring and telling him to get the hell off of his junior officer, to quit fantasizing about all the ways one might enjoy breaking the unspoken non-frat rules.

Jon wishes the captain would shut up.

Reluctantly, he disentangles himself from Hoshi, giving her a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry."

She smiles back at him. "You fell asleep."

He nods and rubs his hand through his hair. "How long was I out?" A part of him feels guilty about breaking his promise to Phlox. He's relieved that Hoshi seems fine. Another part of him wants to lie back down in her lap—and that's the tamest idea that part of him has.

"Two movies ago," she answers in a nonchalant tone.

_Two_ movies? His guilt spikes. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

Hoshi shrugs. "You looked so peaceful. I don't think I've ever seen you that way." She draws her knees to her chest. "You needed the rest. I'm the only one who had to stay awake."

He considers asking her why she let him snuggle her, but thinks better of it. He doesn't want to know that she was merely patronizing her captain. "What time is it?" The chronometer on his wall answers his question before she can. It's been more than twenty hours since he rescued her from sickbay.

She can sleep now. And that's why she woke him up. She wants to go back to her quarters, and he had her pinned down. Of course.

He gives her a smile he doesn't feel. "Well, you seem okay to me. But maybe you ought to let Phlox take a look at you."

"He commed a little while ago. Since I didn't pass out or get delirious, he says I'm out of danger." She leans toward Jon and nudges him with her shoulder. "Don't worry. I told him that you were in the bathroom."

"Thanks for covering for me." Jon blows out a sigh and glances away. "I guess you want to get back to your own bed now."

Hoshi pats the mattress with a sly grin. "Yours is nicer."

The voice of the captain is back in Jon's head. Yelling at him not to take the bait, not to throw away both of their careers over the base need for physical companionship.

"You're lucky. Captains get such big beds," Hoshi says. She's standing now, walking toward the door, and the captain is extolling her better judgment. "Thanks for watching over me. Goodnight."

He hops off the bed and meets her at the door. "At least let me walk you back to your quarters." He can't help but remember saying something similar to her that night in San Francisco.

She reaches up and pats his cheek. "You're such a gentleman, but I'll be fine."

He studies her. She looks tired, but otherwise showing little signs of her recent ordeal. The image of her pale face, her closed eyes that refused to open, fills his head. He remembers the feel of her limp body as he clutched her to him. He remembers the fear that she was gone before he could tell her—

The captain is shrieking at him now, demanding that he let her go, that he could lose everything if he lets his thoughts of Hoshi continue down that path.

Everything? What is everything? Starfleet? The Enterprise? He sees Hoshi in his mind again, colorless and unconscious. He almost lost her, and that turns his stomach more than the thought of being planet-bound for the rest of his life. _She_ is everything.

Jon tells the captain to go to hell.

He grabs Hoshi's hand as she reaches for the door release. "Stay," he says to her, pleading with his eyes.

She draws her brows together. "What do you mean?"

Jon falters for a moment. Maybe the night they shared so long ago was meant to stay a one-night stand. He thinks of Malcolm. Is it too late? Has she moved on? Was there nothing really there in the first place? He stifles these doubts. Jon has never been a man to back down when he sets his mind to something, and at this moment his mind is set on Hoshi. At the very least, he's determined to find out what this is between them.

"Stay here, Hoshi," he says in a quiet voice. "You can sleep in my bed."

Her dark eyes are wide as she glances at her hand still in his, and Jon holds his breath. This one of those moments, he knows—a moment when the stars are going to shift, one way or another. He hopes they shift in his favor.

She intertwines her fingers with his. "Okay." All of Jon's worries about the state of her relationship with Malcolm flee when she graces him with a brilliant smile.

He caresses her cheek with his free hand. She's so beautiful, so perfect. He leans forward, and pauses before giving in to the urge to kiss her. He's wanted this for so long, but he doesn't want to rush her. Hoshi's smile broadens. She rises up on her toes to brush her lips against his. He closes his eyes and returns the kiss, deepening it.

The desire Jon has ignored over the last year becomes a wildfire, burning through every vein. Until this moment, he hasn't realized how much he needed this—needed her. He lets go of her hand and tries to guide her further back into the room, but he loses his sense of direction when her tongue traces his lips. They crash against the wall instead.

They make it to the bed eventually.

* * *

He wakes with her head resting on his chest and her body partially draped over him. Jon feels a peace that has been elusive since the war began. He thinks of the past year, all the tension that threatened to tear him apart, and realizes that it wasn't worth it. He shouldn't have waited until he held her unconscious body before he finally acted on the love he's felt for her. And he does love her. Jon knows that now.

Sighing, Hoshi stirs against him. She lifts her head and looks up at him with a small smile on her full lips. "Hi."

He returns her smile. "Hi." It's funny how shy this moment feels, after they've explored each other so thoroughly.

"So…" She pauses, and Jon tries not to hold his breath while he waits for her next words. He doesn't want the spell to be broken. "What happens now?"

He feels the weight of the question settle over him. What happens now? He knows what he wants, but he's worried that she might not want the same. As much as he's willing to risk his career to keep her by his side, can he ask the same of her? The silence stretches between them for several heartbeats.

Taking a deep breath, he decides to be honest. "I don't want to give this up." He traces the line of her jaw. "I…I love you, Hoshi."

Her eyes light up in a way that makes him want to kiss her again, to capture the joy he sees on her beautiful features. "I love you, too," she says.

Jon cups her face in his hands and pulls her down. Her lips are soft against his, and unlike the desperate fire he felt last night, something deeper burns inside of him. He's never going to be the same, he realizes, and he's glad. She fills a void within him that he hadn't known existed before. He hopes he does the same for her.

The comm beeps, and Hoshi giggles at his groan. He pounds the button. "Archer." If his voice is a little gruff, he doesn't care.

"Captain," Phlox says, "I just wanted to make sure that Lieutenant Sato made it back to her cabin and is getting some sleep now."

Jon glances at Hoshi and gives her a wry grin. "She's rested. She's still with me."

_And I'm never going to let her go again. _

He almost doesn't get the comm shut off before Hoshi attacks him with her lips. She squeals when he flips her on her back. He looks down at her, the woman who completes him, and his heart swells.

From this moment on, she is all that matters.

**~FIN~**

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**A/N:** Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts if you have a minute or two! XD


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